Poems by Jonna

On Poetry, Acting, and the Language Beneath Words

Actors and poets have something in common. We are both drawn toward the unspoken — what lives just beneath the surface. The subtext.

It’s rarely about what is said. It’s about what is being held back.

I’ve been drawn to stories for as long as I can remember. What captures me is almost never grand performances or overt emotion. It’s the micro-expressions. A pause held a second too long. A look that lingers, a body that gives something away before the words arrive. Sometimes you can feel an emotion simply by the way someone is standing.

Poetry and acting meet in this shared frequency — a space where meaning is carried by timing rather than explanation.

Artists working in this space often recognize each other instinctively. Not because we are similar, but because we are listening for the same things. Some performances don’t impress me. They recognize me.

People who are highly attuned to feelings and moods tend to feel this more strongly. We are used to ambiguity. We live close to our inner lives. We are comfortable staying with what hasn’t fully formed yet.

The Rhythm of Acting and Poetry

Before words carry meaning, rhythm does.

Both poetry and acting communicate first through time: through pauses, breath, hesitation, acceleration.

We feel something before we understand it.

A poem is not just a collection of lines.

Line breaks decide when the reader inhales.

White space is a held breath.

The same is true for acting. The most affecting performances are rarely about what is said.

They are about when it is said — or when it isn’t.

A half-second delay before a line.

A glance that lingers just long enough to feel unsafe.

A sentence spoken too early, as if it couldn’t be held back.

Or too late, as if the speaker hoped they wouldn’t have to say it at all.

This isn’t technique in a mechanical sense.

It’s musical timing.

Why Some Performances Feel More Real

Certain performances linger because their rhythm aligns with lived emotional experience.

Real feeling doesn’t arrive fully formed.

It hesitates, circles, retreats and returns.

Actors who allow that rhythm feel more truthful. They don’t rush toward clarity. This is true even when very little happens on the surface.

This is why poets are often drawn to subtle performers. We recognize the pattern. We understand that meaning doesn’t come from emphasis alone. Instead, it comes from restraint. It arises from pressure held beneath the surface. It also stems from timing that mirrors inner life rather than narrative convenience.

A poet listens not only to what is said. They listen to why it is said that way. They consider what is avoided, delayed, or carried silently.

That’s why some of my favorite actors are Chris Briney, Andrew Scott, Paul Mescal, and Saoirse Ronan. Their work lives in the subtext. And that’s where poetry lives.

A Personal Note

When I look back at my own writing, I can see the shift clearly. My earlier poems were more overt, more declarative. Now I’m increasingly drawn to what remains hidden — to what can be read between the lines.

Perhaps that’s why certain stories and performances affect me so deeply. They move the way real emotions move. Slowly. Unevenly. With hesitation.

Some artists speak loudly.

Others speak in a frequency you either hear — or you don’t.

And once you hear it, it becomes impossible not to listen for it everywhere.

Related post: How The Summer I Turned Pretty Sparked Four Poems

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